My Mrs and Baby Kisses
by MGMK
Summary: More of the Pierces and their little bundle of joy. First real holiday edition coming soon.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note: **I just have to say something and feel free to scroll past it if you please, but, I feel compelled to clear something up. I love Glee. I'd have to or else why would I waste my time writing fanfiction about it? I know I rag on it from time to time – because I can and it's _my_ show and if anybody else says bag things about it . – but it's mainly in jest. In fact, the only thing I completely object to that Glee has done so far this season was Santana's outing and the carelessness with how it was handled. I just really wish they would have driven home the message that outing someone is not cool, _ever_. All that aside, I'm still entertained by what most of you would agree is a thoroughly enjoyable show. So, there. Those are my feelings about Glee. Take them or leave them. Also…nah, that's it. Thanks for reading and reviewing and thank you to my beta as always.

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><p>"I thought that was Rachel's car," Brittany announces, stepping into her somewhat crowded living room. "What's the occasion? And where my chick at?"<p>

"Britt," Santana admonishes lightly, walking into the living room whilst scribbling away on a notebook page, "Please tell me you did not just call me your 'chick'."

"Totally did," Brittany says, smirking grandly and making her way to where Santana's just sitting.

It must be love.

Has to be, because she's never _ever _found sweats and hair piled in a messy bun particularly sexy _before_ and now she thinks it's like the hottest combo ever.

Quinn groans loudly, "I know that look. They're like seconds away from fornicating. God, I can't believe I went so long without noticing something between you two. It's so freaking _obvious_."

"Immensely," Rachel nods distractedly, engrossed in sheet music. "I think this one would make a lovely ballad, Santana."

"Seriously," Brittany questions, squeezing in next to Santana on the love seat, "What's with everybody in my house? And why is Finn, of all people, holding our baby?"

"Uh, because Maya fucking hates everybody else," Puck practically snarls, mean-mugging Finn like he stole the last condom at a whore house.

"They're helping me with song selections, Britt," Santana answers, laughing at Puck's forlorn expression. "And Maya doesn't hate everyone. Just Puck. It's pretty hilarious actually. He steps within a foot of her and she starts up the water works."

"Don't worry, Puck," Brittany tells him, her eyes still carefully watching Finn and her daughter. "She's extra picky about everything these days."

"Whatever," he grumbles, pushing himself up, making sure to stay clear of the baby. "You guys got anything to drink that's not, you know, pussified?"

"There's some beer in the basement fridge I think," Santana tells him, watching him go before turning her attention back to Brittany – who's eyeing Finn with the ferocity of a hawk.

"She's fine, Britt," Santana whispers, kissing Brittany's covered shoulder quickly.

And she is.

Maya's quietly observing the rise and fall of Finn's facial features as he holds her tightly.

He's actually kind of cute with her.

"You guys ever think about having a baby?" Brittany asks suddenly and everybody – Quinn, Rachel and Finn – stops moving.

And breathing.

"Um…what?" Finn asks, about ten shades paler than he usually is.

"I'm just saying," Brittany shrugs, nodding at him, "You look pretty comfortable over there with Maya."

"That's 'cause she's not mine," he laughs, bouncing the baby girl on his knee a little.

"So," Santana starts, turning her attention to Rachel, "You guys have never thought about it?"

"Well, of course we've thought about it," Rachel uncharacteristically stammers, flipping her hair back. "But the timing's not really right. I'm constantly going back and forth between here and New York. And Finn's job is so unpredictable in regards to the times he works; it just wouldn't be conducive to have a baby right now."

Brittany frowns. "But, you're not, like going to run electricity through it. At least I hope not."

Quinn laughs, though not maliciously. "Conducive Britt, not conductive."

"Oh," Brittany says with a rueful smile. "Well, what about you and Puck?"

"Puck still calls himself Puck," Quinn deadpans, rolling her eyes slightly when he comes back up with the lone beer bottle.

But then he pulls one from behind his back and hands it to her and she smiles warmly.

"I want a kid, sure," Puck says, caching on quickly to the topic of conversation. "But, like, only when I've got a little more bank saved up. The restaurant's bringing in some quality dough but I want to be like, rolling in it before I bring a Junior into the fold."

"What's with all the baby talk anyway? You guys aren't about to have another one _already_ are you?" Quinn asks, not being subtle at all as she checks Santana's body for any indicator that she's pregnant again.

"No," Brittany answers, twisting her fingers with Santana's before taking the plunge. "We were actually just thinking about who we'd want Maya to go to in case, you know, something bad happens."

"Oh no," Puck jumps up, incredulous. "Which one of you has cancer? I told you, Quinn. This always happens in the movies. Damn you, Ilene Chaiken."

"Neither one of us has cancer you moron," Santana informs him dryly, rolling her eyes. "We just…well, since we're parents we have to plan for every unforeseeable event and, unfortunately, that scenario is one of them."

"Well, it's not like there's an actually decision to make," Puck says, looking around the room. "Quinn and I are the obvious choice. Obviously."

"Dude," Finn says, instantly affronted. "Why is that obvious? Besides, she hates you."

"Shut up, Hudson," Puck mutters angrily.

"Make me No-ah."

"Okay, boys," Rachel speaks up, the ever-present voice of reason, "Let's be realistic here. Finn and I are clearly in a better place financially so, really, she would most likely go to us."

"You know _nothing_ about being a good mother Rachel. You still wear polyester and pattern prints," Quinn says.

Brittany and Santana sit back and watch the adults take turns firing verbal jabs at one another.

"I don't know whether to be touched or immensely amused," Santana murmurs.

Brittany gratefully takes Maya – who's merely staring at the bickering adults with befuddled wonderment – from Finn as he gets even more engrossed with their "conversation". "I know; they're like fighting over who gets to love her the most or something. We can't go wrong with whoever we choose."

"But, you know, let's try not to die anytime soon, okay?" Santana says, looking on as Finn actually finger-flicks Puck between the eyebrows.

"Deal," Brittany agrees, sealing their vow with a pinky link.

***o*O*o***

There are things about having Maya in their lives that Brittany absolutely adores.

She loves their three-on-three time: bathing her, reading her stories, singing to her or twirling around the living room in wide, lazy circles.

She loves Maya and Brittany time too. Like, putting her to sleep, or making a quick run to the grocery store, or holding her as close as possible while feeding her a Sunday afternoon bottle.

But, more than anything, she thinks she likes spying on Santana and Maya time because watching her wife's walls break down like they never existed in the first place, and seeing her so super-happy and so super-pleased about something so super-tiny is like winning the lottery or something.

Before Maya, Santana would never leave a toss pillow out of place, never left dirty clothes on a floor for more than a night, never even left the toothpaste cap off.

But now?

Now Brittany stumbles out of bed Saturday morning fully rested, hair unkempt and bare feet leading her in the direction of the kitchen where she can hear the quiet noises of the two loves of her life, and stumbles right into Kitchen Wars.

Or at least that's what it looks like.

There's flour everywhere and instead of furiously scrubbing away at a pot or scrambling around for a broom, Santana's standing in the middle of the chaos, Maya sitting in front of her on the counter, a large mixing bowl sitting between them.

"You ready, sweetie?" Santana asks, eyes sparkling as they focus on their daughter. She buries her fingers into the bowl, coming back up with a little more than a tablespoon of flour in her palms.

"One, two, three!" she quietly exclaims before clapping her hands together, a cloud of flour dusting up into the air at the action.

Maya laughs adorably, her chubby cheeks flushing pink as she watches the flour rise, her own hands imitating the clap, albeit missing a few times.

When Santana laughs delightedly, brushing her nose against Maya's in a cute – and floury – Eskimo kiss, Brittany's heart just about swells to its bursting point.

Time to join them.

Brittany clears her throat, steeping into the room. "Excuse me," she says, settling her hands on her hips, "What is going on here?"

Santana's eyes dart up guiltily, shock, love, then a mild guilt playing across her features. "We're making breakfast, Britt."

Brittany fights her laughter back hard.

At this distance, Santana's complexion looks lighter than her own.

"Let me guess, the first step was to douse your entire body in flour. Am I right?" she grins, sidling up beside her wife. She blows a quick breath directly at Santana's face and a cloud of flour wafts up as a result.

Maya laughs, obviously.

"Yep. That's right," Santana says, hands still in the bowl, "And step two is…"

She upturns her hands suddenly, throwing about a cup of flour directly into Brittany's shocked face, "…throw the remaining flour onto your unsuspecting wife."

_Yeah_, Brittany thinks as she blows out a mouthful of flour much to the amusement of her wife and daughter, _motherhood suits Santana just perfectly_.

***o*O*o***

"I'm gonna win Maya, you might as well give it up."

Maya stares up at Brittany, still strapped to her bouncer.

"I'm serious. I'm really good. Just ask Santana."

Maya's eyebrows lift, her fist finding its way into her mouth.

"Wait, no, that's cheating. Don't make me laugh."

Maya slobbers over her hand, her bright eyes still watching Brittany intently.

Brittany giggles then frowns a little. "Maya, no fair," she admonishes lightly. "You totally cheated."

"Playing the straight-face game again?" Santana asks, walking by behind them.

"Yeah and Maya cheated. Like she usually does," Brittany says, pulling Maya's fist away and wiping up the remaining dribble with her bib. "Are you ready to go yet, babe?"

"Almost," Santana answers distractedly, stuffing a few more toys into Maya's baby bag, "Oh. What'd you do with the first aid kit?"

"I _had_ the first aid kit?"

"Yeah, remember, you nicked your finger and I'm no good with bl…bloo…d," Santana says, almost choking on the word.

"Oh yeah. I think it's in the bathroom," Brittany answers, letting Maya chew on her finger, "Why do you need it anyway? We're just going to my mom's house."

"That's exactly why we need it," Santana mutters, finding the case sitting on the back of the toilet.

Now, don't get her wrong.

She loves Brittany's mother like she – regrettably – loves musicals. After all, how could she not love the woman half-responsible for creating the love of her life?

It's just that she's fairly certain all of Brittany's smart genes come from her dad and all of the other…qualities she'd inherited are from her mother.

So, Mrs. Pierce?

Kind of a scary person to be around at times.

Particularly when she's got Santana's daughter in her arms.

"Babe," Brittany says, poking her head into the bathroom, bundled up Maya in her arms and baby bag looped around her shoulder, "Come on. Maya's getting antsy."

"Britt, _you're_ getting antsy," Santana corrects sagely, leading the way to the driveway.

"Well, yeah, did you not _read_ my last email from Lord Tubbington? He thinks he's been replaced," Brittany declares fastening Maya into her car seat and swooping in to kiss her cheek when she fusses momentarily. "And I haven't exactly figured out how to tell him his room's been given away," she adds, grinning so that Santana knows she's not serious.

"I'm sure he'll be fine with it," Santana muses, shaking her head at her wife as she climbs into the passenger seat.

It's actually pretty amazing that cat's still alive.

In high school she was sure he'd be the first cat to have to undergo a triple bypass surgery.

Brittany shrugs, not concerned, "Even if he's not, I'm a mom and wife now. And my Mrs. and baby kisses trump Tubbs every time."

***o*O*o***

"Snookums!"

Santana braces for the contact – just like every time – but she's never quite prepared for the strength of Mrs. Pierce embrace like, ever.

After all, she'd barely set foot out of the car before the woman was on her like a second skin.

"Look at you. Just skin and bones," she goes on, lifting Santana a few feet off the ground. "You'd never known you'd given birth to a baby a few short months ago. Ted, look at her. I told you we should go over and feed 'em more often."

"I'm sure they're managing just fine dear," Mr. Pierce laughs, joining his wife in the driveway and hugging Brittany when she emerges from the car. "Isn't that right Bright Eyes?"

"_Dad_," Brittany grumbles playfully, rolling her eyes at the nickname.

"Okay, that's enough hugging," Mrs. Pierce says, setting Santana back down. "Now, where's my grandbaby?"

Without waiting – or warning, Mrs. Pierce rips open the back door and literally dives across the back seat.

Maya's eyes widen, chin trembling, and then she's crying like someone's trying to kill her.

"Aww, Ma," Brittany says with a gentle laugh, "You scared her."

"I did no such thing," Mrs. Pierce insists, her hands quickly working at freeing Maya from her baby seat while Santana worriedly looks on. "She's just…tired. That's all."

Within seconds, she's got Maya in her arms, still wailing away and watching both of her moms stand by as Mrs. Pierce leads them all back into the house.

Brittany hangs back, nudging Santana's shoulder. "She's just spooked."

"Did you see the way she looked at us?" Santana asks through a pout. "We're going to have to buy her an expensive car to make up for this. Or worse, let her date someone like…_Puckerman_."

Santana shudders.

Brittany snorts, sliding an arm around her waist. "You're so dramatic."

***o*O*o***

It took a few short millennia but Maya'd finally calmed down.

But that primarily has to do with the fact that she is practically buried in Santana's chest, her tiny fists clenching her low-cut shirt so tightly that she's almost the Justin Timberlake to Santana's Janet.

And she wasn't leaving anytime soon if Santana has anything to say about it.

"Can I hold her just a tiny second?" Brittany's mom asks, reaching for her and Santana's eyes widen but Brittany blocks the move.

"I don't think so, Mom," she says, holding her arm out.

"Brittany Susan," her mother admonishes, looking affronted, "I can't believe you would deny your dear mother access to her one and only grandchild."

"Mom, you made her hit her head."

"The door jamb moved and she didn't hit it that hard."

"Be that as it may," Brittany continues gently, sharing an understanding look with Santana, "Let her stay with San a little longer."

"Okay," her mother pouts, settling back against the couch huffily and Brittany and Santana both breathe small sighs of relief.

Brittany's dad smiles at his wife's sullen look before turning his attention to the two women seated across from him. "I…I have to say it and I feel like one of those TV dads right now saying it, but, I'm so very proud of you two."

Brittany smiles and leans into Santana, completing the living breathing family portrait they've so seamlessly become.

"I still remember the first time I met you Santana. You guys were still in your freshman year and you turned up on our doorstep one afternoon, stuttering and shy and paying more attention to the door stoop than us. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Santana laughs, nudging Brittany's shoulder. "I remember Brittany introducing me as her girlfriend and my eyes falling out of my head."

"What?" Brittany shrugs, leaning in and giving Santana a quick kiss. "It was true. You were a girl and you were my friend."

"Are your friend," Santana corrects, locking her eyes on Brittany's.

"My best friend," Brittany amends, getting caught up in Santana's gaze.

"Okay, enough with cuteness ladies, I'm trying to have my father in-law moment here," Ted says, clearing his throat loudly.

"Sorry Dad," Santana says, returning her attention to him. "You were saying."

"That was the first time I met you and I remember thinking – very vaguely and way, way back in my mind – that you'd make a great addition to the family. I know it was a strange thought, but, I thought it. And then later, when I came up to get laundry and you and Bright Eyes were stretched out and going over the different biological classifications, and Brittany was trying so hard and _getting_ it, I just knew…I knew that you were it for her. Then I saw you guys kissing under the mistletoe that Christmas and I _really _knew," Ted says, laughing sagely. "So, I don't know… I guess I'm mentioning all of this to say that, yes, you've only been married to my daughter for the past four years, but you've_ been_ my daughter for a lot longer than that. Ever since that first day. And, I'm proud of you. Of both of you. Of the young women you've become. Of the mothers that you are…" Ted trails off, shaking his head and blinking rapidly, clearing the moisture from his eyes. "I don't know where all of this is coming from. Blame Oprah. I've been watching a lot of episodes now that I'm retired."

"Daddy," Brittany gasps, choking back tears, "Thank you."

***o*O*o***

"So, like, if you guys die I totally get to keep her, right?"

"Jamie," Brittany's dad admonishes, brow furrowed.

"What? I'm just asking," the girl asks, confused.

"I don't think so Jamester," Santana grins.

Brittany's not so little anymore sister pouts. "Why not?"

"You're just a kid, Jamie," Brittany replies, hugging her sister's shoulders. "But, I'll tell you what; you can come visit and help babysit any time you want, okay?"

"Okay," Jamie agrees, her clear blue eyes very serious as she nods, "Fair enough."

"I've got it," Brittany's mother finally semi-exclaims, still helping Maya stand on her lap. "Now tell me this isn't the cutest nickname: Cavity. 'Cause she's just so sweet and adorable, your teeth might just fall out if you have too much of her," she adds, playfully munching on Maya's tummy.

"That's cute…Mom," Santana says hesitantly. "But, why don't you keep trying? Just in case you come up with something else."

***o*O*o***

"So…" Brittany hedges, looking at him face to face, "Are you really mad at me?"

He blinks, then turns his head away, still perched on the soft daybed pillow.

"C'mon Lord Tubbington, don't be like that. You know you're still my most favorite four-legged creature on the planet. It's just…I've got other stuff going on. I'm a mama now. And there's work."

Lord Tubbington yawns, clearly not buying it.

"Okay," Brittany frowns, rubbing her chin as she thinks. "How about this? I'll bring you an entire crock pot of cheese and ten candy bars on our next visit. I know money can't buy me love but maybe fattening you up a little will. Is that cool?"

The cat looks at her, darting his tongue out to lick at his nose and Brittany grins.

"There's my kitty," she coos, scooping him up and pressing a kiss to the top of his furry head.

***o*O*o***

_Good evening. _

_It is I._

_Lord Tobias Impervious Ulysses Bob Tubbington._

_And this is the world as seen through mine eyes._

Brittany's just putting me down when Santana enters the room, looking radiant in a form-fitting shirt and skirt.

Although, I should really curtail my compliments to my former partner in crime as she's recently been as absent as Brittany in my life.

I do not understand this concept of 'Maya' they keep speaking of and I certainly don't understand why this…_thing_ is pilfering all of my Brittana time.

We used to be as timeless and inseparable as Peanut Butter, Jelly, and Swedish Fish sandwiches and now…now I've been tossed aside as carelessly as those godforsaken cat treats Elder Pierce keeps trying to force-feed me.

As if _I'm_ an actual cat.

Can you believe the inhumanity?

"How's he taking it?" Santana asks Brittany, looking down at me.

"He seems cool," Brittany answers, shrugging slightly. "Maybe they can meet one another?"

"Okay," Santana says, nodding. "But she can't touch him. We don't know if she's allergic or not, yet."

"Okay."

They both retire and I immediately regret their absence.

So much so that I'm actually contemplating moving from this incredibly comfortable position on my bed.

_That's _how much I've missed them.

But just as quickly as they'd vanished, they're back, sitting on either side of me.

"Okay, Tubbs," Santana says, her voice all at once lilting and soothing, "There's someone Britt's and I want you to meet."

She's looking at Brittany even though she's speaking to me and so I turn my attention to Brittany and notice for the first time she's holding something…something that moves.

Then she tilts it and…and…my _word_, is that a tiny _person_?

"Lord Tubbington meet Maya," Brittany says, blinking down at me and looking between the being in her lap and I. "Maya, meet Lord Tubbington."

I…I don't get this. This 'Maya' thing is a _person_?

Where did Brittany and Santana get another person? And one so small at that?

I think I'm actually bigger than it…well, her, I surmise.

It's silly of me, I know it, but I don't like her.

She's the reason why my friends are no longer with me, and, as juvenile as it sounds, that alone is enough to put her on my 'do not friend' list.

The creature is looking at me now, an odd look on its tiny face and I must admit the sentiment is entirely mutual.

But then, and by no intention of my own I might add, the being incomprehensively smiles at me – giggles, even.

Maybe she's not _that _bad.


End file.
